ENTERTAINING TALES

ENTERTAINING TALES; THE PERILS OF A SOCIAL LIFE

BY ENID NEMY

Published: May 17, 1987

PEOPLE WHO CLAIM THEY HAVE NEVER had a disaster while entertaining either have maids and butlers or serve sliced white bread and salmon out of a can. Otherwise, it can only be assumed that they are flirting dangerously with falsehood.

The road to hospitality is strewn with bumps, and some of the bumps are painful to the ego and are decidedly unfunny - at the time. They seem indelibly impressed on our memory. But fortunately, with time, the seriousness of it all fades, leaving only the humor - and a lesson learned.

For Sally Minard, a founder of Lotas Minard Patton McIver, an advertising agency, the recipe for disaster started with a tremendous crash that interrupted an elegant dinner party she was hosting for visiting Parisian friends.

''We had built a wine wall in the kitchen but hadn't tested its security. The removal of one bottle caused a number of other bottles to fall and smash,'' she said. But there was more to come. ''When we sat down to dinner,'' she continued, ''the room filled with smoke from a fireplace that hadn't been used before - the flue was clogged. The food tasted of smoke, and we were shivering because we had to open a window to air out the room. But it wasn't a complete disaster - two of the guests who met that night dated for several years.''

Lesson: Invite guests who have other things on their minds besides dinner.

The problem for Margot Seitelman, the executive director of American Mensa Ltd., was how to make an impression on the scientist and author Isaac Asimov and English dignitaries, dining at her home for the first time. Her answer was a James Beard recipe for broiled fillet of beef marinated in wine.

''When I went into the kitchen to begin broiling the beef, the empty bowl was on the floor, next to my very pleased, very drunken poodle,'' Mrs. Seitelman recalled. She dispatched her three sons to different neighborhood restaurants for Italian, Chinese and seafood dishes, and doctored them up with spices and condiments. ''Dinner was late, but I was complimented on the international menu,'' she said.

Jock Spivy, a vice president and the associate publisher of the Lorimar Publishing Group, still can't believe it happened, but it did.

''Can you imagine planning a leg of lamb as a main course, putting it in the oven and then forgetting to turn the oven on?'' he asked. ''Looking back on it, I should have taken my guests to a restaurant, but I didn't. I turned on the oven two hours late, and we waited and waited . . . . Everyone was polite - but I don't think any of them have accepted a major invitation from me since.''

Lesson: If you're forgetful, be prepared to serve steak tartare.

Mishaps seem to have their own exquisite timing, and for John Loring, senior vice president and design director of Tiffany & Company, the moment came during a dinner party for a new boss, then the chairman of the board of the company.

Recalled Mr. Loring: ''I had made a complicated stuffed roast and a wonderful tarte tatin for dessert. Everything had been done in advance except for a few last-minute touches, such as the cream I had left to be whipped by the kitchen staff. When the dessert with cream came out, my boss took a hefty portion, began eating it and started choking. The waiter had liberally laced the cream with salt instead of sugar.''

Lesson: Leave it to chance and it will come out salty.

Kenneth Battelle, the hair stylist known as Kenneth, reckons that his worst disaster is probably unique - and he's very likely right.

''I planned a dinner for eight, prepared an elaborate fillet of pork, a dessert of poached pears with creme anglaise, arranged the flowers, set the table and waited. No one came. Finally,'' he said, ''I telephoned one of the couples - they said they hadn't been invited. I couldn't believe it. I telephoned another couple - same answer. It turned out that I hadn't asked anyone. I just thought I had.''

Lesson: A party without guests isn't.

Gail and Phil George, both interior designers, have worked on a number of spectacular restaurants. However, Gail recalls how, when she was a bride just arrived from Dallas, her first New York City dinner party was almost sabotaged by one of her three daughters - a six-year-old.

''Phil had invited a lot of food people, and naturally I wanted to make an impression, but it wasn't going to be very formal so I thought there was no need to get someone to serve,'' she said. ''But I really worked making the dinner, especially a wonderful tart.''

When dessert time came around, the hostess was in the kitchen with her pint-sized helper. She cut the tart and placed the pieces on individual plates.

''Suddenly, the pieces began sliding off the plates,'' she said. ''My six-year-old was upset about moving from Dallas, didn't like the idea of a houseful of strangers and a distracted mother and was having her revenge.''

By the time she fully realized what was going on, slice after slice had casually left its plate and floated to the floor. There was only one tart, and there was only one thing to do. She picked up the wedges, smoothed them out on the plates and carried them into the dining room. ''I was lucky the tart was sort of rigid,'' she said. Lesson: Spring for the hired help.

Put all these disasters together and add your own favorites. And remember the best lesson of all - no matter what the calamity, it too shall pass.